


A Force of Nature

by macaroni_rascal



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Ginny Baker: Taker of Names, Mike Lawson: Human Disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9093037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macaroni_rascal/pseuds/macaroni_rascal
Summary: He thinks loving her is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands: elusive, frustrating, useless. There is no way anything can happen between them, but it doesn't stop him from looking at her like she's Christmas morning personified. She is a force of nature and he's the casual bystander that was either too stupid or too proud not to realize the inevitability of what was coming his way. In which Ginny pitches her first no-hitter and then some other stuff happens too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am beyond proud of this fic, it definitely got away from me! I was inspired by the quote that I can't find now about how baseball was really just 2 against 1, the pitcher and the catcher against the hitter.
> 
> I borrowed a little dialogue and made it happier than it was used in the show.
> 
> Come and visit me on tumblr too!
> 
> http://macaroni-rascal.tumblr.com/
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

He thinks loving her is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands: elusive, frustrating, useless. There is no way anything can happen between them, but it doesn't stop him from looking at her like she's Christmas morning personified. She is a force of nature and he's the casual bystander that was either too stupid or too proud not to realize the inevitability of what was coming his way. 

He ignored every warning sign: the phone calls, the easy conversation, the inside jokes, the near gravitational pull they had for each other whenever they went anywhere with the team. Mike would always be found either sitting with Ginny, going with her to the bar, or at the very least keeping a close eye on her whenever she ventured more than 10 feet from him. He has an almost pathological awareness of her, it's like the damn air shifts around him whenever she walks into the room, like he's a compass and she’s true north. 

Camaraderie and closeness between pitchers and catchers is normal and to be expected. On the field, it's an ostensible game of two against one, the pitcher and the catcher against the hitter, the rest of the team is there for support and only necessary if the hitter wins. Baseball fields can be up to 400 feet from the catcher’s box to the outfield but the majority of the action happens in the 60 feet and 6 inches between the pitcher’s mound and home plate. In order for the pitcher and the catcher to do their jobs there needs to be trust, a rhythm, an understanding. 

Mike hadn’t been lying when he'd told Baker that he'd never seen a rookie like her before, that she was far and away one of the strongest people he had ever met in his life. The annoying thing is that he always feels like he should have stopped speaking two sentences back almost every time they interact, or even any time he talks about her. He had definitely not meant to tell her that she blew him away, he had wanted to keep that tucked somewhere safe and protected, but it came out anyway. He certainly had not meant to go on such an intense rant about her on TV, but he feels overly protective and if he could make her life easier, make all the overly critical talking heads take her a little more seriously then it was his responsibility to do so. 

It just so happened that he was ass over tea kettle in love with her as well.

When she'd first been called up and started pitching with him, they fell into a rhythm so quickly it knocked him back a few steps. Usually it took twice as long, especially for rookies, to find their tempo with their catcher, but by the beginning of Ginny's fourth start as pitcher for the San Diego Padres, it was like they'd developed their own language on the field. She was waving him off far less than when she started, but when she did wave him off he trusted her and now that she was getting to know actually playing with all the teams she'd been following since she was old enough to hold a baseball, she was a genius at it. 

Mike smiles when he thinks about the asshole rookie from the Braves that made a comment to him about how his teammates wished they'd had someone as pretty as Ginny on their team. Mike's not sure if the rookie was expecting him to agree and laugh with him but Mike just smiled to himself and shook is head a little, staying silent and waiting for Baker to trot him right back to his dugout. 

And just like that, one, two, three pitches and the rookie hitter was biting back a curse and shuffling back to his team with his proverbial tail between his legs. 

Baker rarely showed any intense emotion while she was pitching, her focus was singular and intense, completely fixated on the game and only the game. It was beautiful to watch, seeing someone so in their element, so perfectly in tune with herself and her surroundings. She was an honest to god work of art and Mike was her biggest admirer. 

He wants to bottle the feeling he gets when he plays with her, when they get into a groove so fluid and precise that the whole world gets quiet and it's just him and her working in tandem against anyone who would dare try and break their rhythm. 

She pitches her first no-hitter with Mike, not to mention the first no hitter by any Padre ever. He feels it in the air as they walk out at the top of the fourth inning. She'd gotten this far before a couple times, but she always got hit in the fourth, they'd talked about it before, how on three separate occasions it was the second player at bat that made her lose her streak. She'd joked that she was cursed to never make it to the 5th inning.

He doesn't know why but today is different, maybe it's because the whole team is jelling like they haven't in a few weeks. The team, now completely used to Ginny and growing fonder with each passing day, have wholeheartedly accepted her and have even grown protective in a way that Ginny would probably have a problem with. They respect her so damn much it makes Mike feel proud as hell to call the bunch of mooks his teammates. 

Ginny hadn't even let wood hit cow hide, no foul balls, no pops ups, no nothing. Not only was she growing strong on her no hitter, not a single player had made it to a base.

After the 9th strikeout, as the Padres made their way back into their dugout, Rhobles made a joke about how he was getting a little bored with nothing to do on second base and Blip quickly smacked him to shut him up. It was still too early to call it what it was but Mike knew Blip was superstitious enough that even a comment like that could have potential of messing with Ginny's mojo. 

There was something in how she was carrying herself, with each game she was getting more and more confident in herself and her place on the team, he hadn't heard her call herself a fraud in weeks and any and all self doubt she'd been experiencing was quickly evaporating in favour of self-assuredness and fierce determination. And Mike had thought the rookie was determined before. 

By the end of the fourth and three more strike outs later, Mike, the team, and the entire stadium was quietly buzzing in anticipation. Mike could tell the Braves were getting antsy and he just knew that next inning some asshole was going to try and bunt to ruin the perfect game Baker was in the middle of accomplishing.

But to the Braves great disappointment and the stadiums elation, Ginny only let one hitter get a hold of the ball but it was caught by Blip before the batter made it half way to first base. And just like that, Ginny was going to be heading into the fifth inning, her streak still in tact. The excitement in the stadium and in the dugout was palpable, the rest of the team were steering clear of Baker, Sonny even covering his mouth and eyes when she tried to start a conversation with him.

Mike plops down next to Al and they share and quick nod and small excited eye brow raise but let it go no further than that, they both respect the game and the traditions too much to actually demonstrate their excitement for what Ginny was in the middle of doing. Besides, they weren't even half way through the game yet, no need to get ahead of themselves.

They get through the fifth. 

And the sixth.

And the seventh.

The Padres score twice during the 6th, and then two more times in the 7th, giving Ginny some much needed breathing room and solidifying the possibility of her no-hitter. 

The team walks out at the top of the 8th and the entire stadium is losing their collective minds, Ginny had a short conversation with Al about how her arm was feeling and considering her beautiful start, she hadn't thrown nearly as many pitches as she would have normally by this point in the game. They both feel confident she's got this and as they make their way their respective places on the field, Mike throws a look back at Skip and he's got a wide smile on his face that he quickly schools into a serious expression as the first batter for the Braves steps out from the dugout.

Mike crouches down and watches Ginny take a deep breath and roll her shoulders before nodding at his call and going in for the wind up. Its a foul ball way off to the left passed third. 

Mike takes a second to look at the hitter, watching him dig his feet a little too hard into the dirt, hands tightening and retightening on the bat, he seems anxious, he’s entirely sure the Skip for the Braves is just telling his players to try and swing at every pitch she throws hoping to have one work out in their favour. Mike feels almost sorry for the poor hitter, he and the entire Braves team are no match for Ginny Baker when she's in her element. 

The next two pitches are perfect strikes, a screwball and a fastball on the inside.

He calls for a curveball because he knows that's what Ginny wants to throw based on how she's standing and he trusts her so completely that it would be ridiculous to not give her exactly what she wants.

The sound of the ball hitting his mitt dead centre is perhaps his second favourite sound, right after her laugh. 

The stadium erupts into chaos and Baker is five outs away from making history. Well, from making more history than she's already made. 

The last time a pitcher for the Padres had gotten this close was 8 years ago when Jake Peavy had made it to 4 outs away before a hitter got a hold of his fastball and got a home run, effectively ending the chance for a no-hitter. Mike remembers feeling anxious as all hell behind the plate, second guessing his calls and worrying that with each new batter he was going to misread something.

He feels the exact opposite as Ginny settles in to assess her next victim. He feels unbelievably calm, like they are in batting practice, just her and him, no pressure, no expectation, just an easy back and forth.

Hell, his knees aren't even bothering him as much as they should be, mind over matter and all that. His focus is so entirely on Baker and her pitches that everything gets quiet, he's just his two hands and his eyes, and Baker's entire body is an extension of her arm and together they work in perfect harmony. 

She strikes out the next hitter and doesn't even have the decency to look happy about it. She just rolls her shoulders and keeps her eyes on home plate, doesn't look at the crowd, doesn't look at the scoreboard, doesn't look anywhere but Mike. 

The maybe final batter steps up and Mike can tell this guy is overly confident about his abilities, he's the Braves best pinch hitter and he swaggers up to home plate calmly and with just a little bit too much machismo for Mike's taste. Poor bastard, he thinks.

Just like the rookie hitter earlier in the game he tries to make some idiot comment about Baker and her skills off the field and once again Mike holds his tongue, wanting to let Baker handle the asshole in the best way both of them know how. He calls for her cutter, which has only gotten better and better, and the ball connects with the bat, it's a pop up and Mike tears off his mask and runs and slides to catch it. 

He's heard his fair share of excitement in a stadium before but the din that erupts as the Padres make their way into the dugout to get ready for the bottom of the 8th, well, he thinks he's never heard or felt such intensity in the 15 years he's been a Padre.

He would be surprised but that's the exact type of reaction Ginny Baker deserves.

She sits in the dugout, her Padres coat half done up and only covering her pitching arm to keep it warm and prepped for the final inning. Mike wonders what's going through her head, she looks stoic, her only tell is the small movement of her lip indicating she is most likely chewing on her cheek, a habit Mike had noticed early when she was first called up. A sign that she was nervous, which he did not fault her for one second. 

They'd talked about it before, it was the waiting between innings that got to her more than anything. On the mound, she had one clear focus, but in the dugout, there was time to analyze and worry, time to overthink and second guess. 

Mike really wants to go sit next to her and offer quiet support but with three outs to go he wasn't going to push his luck, and he's also pretty sure the rest of the team would crucify him if he sat next to her the Braves got a hit.

Well if he's being honest with himself he actually wants to go over there, and kiss her so as to give her mouth something to do other than fidget. He would run the back of his knuckles over her cheek and gently thump at her lip until she relaxed under his palm. 

But there was no way in hell that was happening either.

So instead, he grabs a pack of gum from Voorhies' cubby, slides a piece out and starts to make his way to the other end of the dugout, for all intents and purposes to grab some water from the cooler. He surreptitiously tosses the gum into Baker's lap when he passes, she startles a bit, in her own world before he interrupted.

She picks up the gum and he can feel her shooting a grateful look to his back as he sips at the water he wasn't actually thirsty for.

He hears the crinkle of the wrapper as she pops the gum in her mouth, chewing on that instead of her cheek. When he walks back over to sit next to Al, she looks infinitely calmer and it makes him feel proud and lovesick at the same time. 

They don't score any more in the 8th, but they are still 4-0 and going into the last inning the entire team, following Baker's example, is calm, collected, and ready.

All she needs is three outs and it's hers. Mike takes a deep breath and takes up his spot behind home plate, watching Ginny get into her zone like an actor getting into character, her demeanour shifts, her stance solidifies and she's makes eye contact with him to give him a nod saying she's ready whenever he is. 

The first batter comes up to the plate.

Blessedly, it's a hit to left field and Stubbs is there to catch it like he's plucking an apple off a tree. 

Two outs to go and Mike is deaf to the sounds of the crowd, he thinks Baker is too because she has yet to look away from home plate. 

There is absolutely no reason for Mike to want to call time, he hasn't needed to talk to take a trip up to the mound the entire game, they've been playing so perfectly there is no advice to share, no speech to give, no pep talk necessary.

But goddammit Mike really wants to call time, if only so he can talk to Baker, wants to get a look at her up close, be a little nearer to history than he already is. He doesn't though, doesn't interrupt the rhythm.

The next hitter comes up the plate and Mike feels like he's a kid playing little league before winning became important. He feels completely at ease and he wishes he didn't know why.

Baker nods at his call and winds up, the ball makes contact with his glove and he knows its a strike but the ump calls a ball and his ease cracks for a second because he wants to get up and yell at the umpire for his complete stupidity and doesn't he know what's on the line here?

He hears the crowd's displeasure at the call, if only because he feels whatever they are all feeing tenfold, he can only imagine what the commentators are saying at this point. He quickly refocuses as the batter steps up again.

Ginny, to her great credit, does not look angry, if anything she looks more determined.  


She throws a strike, a ball, and another strike. It's 2-2 and Mike has an easy smile on his face, ready for her to strike him out.

She does not disappoint; her screwball has always been a thing of beauty but the one that lands in his glove is perhaps the most beautiful pitch he has ever seen. 

One out to go.

She adjusts her hat and leans forward, fiddling with the ball behind her back, waiting on Mike. 

If he was as much of a masochist as he thinks he is, he would to draw this out a little, make this moment last as long as possible because as soon as the next batter is out, Mike Lawson and Ginny Baker are officially going to be going down in history together, his legacy complete and hers only just beginning. 

So, sue him if he wants to enjoy this beautiful and historic game for as long as he possibly can.

However, he's not anywhere near selfish enough to actually do anything, he just wishes he could go back to the beginning of the game so he could relive it, feel every ball hit his glove, remember every single look on Baker's face, feel the growing excitement then complete calm one more time. You don't see games like this very often and Mike is so very blessed he got to be a part of this one.

First two pitches are balls, one foul and one just outside home plate. 

The next one is a strike and the next is another ball.

He could get her to walk him so she could have another crack, he knows which batter is up next and he's positive he knows how to strike him out. 

He calls for her to walk him but she shakes him off and judging by how she's standing she wants to throw her cutter, he calls for it and when she nods he swears he can see a little gleam in her eye, like she'd be impressed that he knew what she wanted to throw if they hadn't been doing this for weeks now.

It's a perfect strike and it's 3-2 and every person at Petco takes a collective breath and he doesn't have to block out the crowd because the entire stadium is dead silent. 

He calls for a screwball because he knows she can do it and she clearly knows too because she doesn't even nod before she winds up and throws the ball so fluidly and quickly that the batter barely has time to hesitate before Mike's glove closes around the ball, like it had been there the whole time.

The roar is so loud he can't even hear his own heartbeat as he flings his mask off and rushes the mound, the team only seconds behind him.

The only thing he sees is Ginny's wide, almost unbelieving, smile. Mike is the first to her and he gathers her in the biggest hug he can muster, squeezing her tightly enough that he can hear her gasp a little in his ear. Before he even has time to clock that sound away, he feels the rest of the team join the hug from all directions, creating a swirling vortex of loud sweaty baseball players all whooping and cheering for their rookie. 

His arms are still around Ginny and he can feel more than hear her laughter, her shoulders are shaking and she’s vibrating just a little bit, he lets go finally to let the rest of the team have a turn at hugging her, feeling proud and bereft at the same time. He quickly pushes any negative feeling out of his head, now is not the time.

He turns and starts hugging the rest of him teammates, he takes a second to look into the crowd as they begin to chant.

"Ba-ker! Ba-ker!"

She gets lifted into Salvi's and Sonny's shoulders and she laughs bright and happy, still not looking at the crowd, preferring to run her eyes over the team before she finds him.

He swears his hearts stops beating at the smile she gives him, adoring and thankful, her dimples on full display and her face shiny with perspiration. He has never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

They finally break eye contact when Shrek envelops Mike in a giant hug, turning him away from Ginny and into more ferocious back pats and yelling.

When she gets put down and the Padres start to make their way back into the dugout, she finally looks out into the crowd, removes her hat and takes her bow to the ever present standing ovation. The crowd goes wilder, how it's possible he doesn't know, all he knows is that even with thousands of people cheering and yelling their love and support for Ginny Baker, it doesn’t even hold a candle to what he feels right now. 

Mike is not an overly romantic guy, his upbringing and his mother never really allowed for much sentimentality. But as they make their way into the club house, every player high on the game, boisterous and euphoric, he thinks he would hang stars for her, he would write sonnets, he would put her poster on his wall without shame. 

He loses Ginny at some point, he's near the back of the team, wanting to give Al and Buck both long hugs, they all looked at each other, a quiet understating of mutual awe for the rookie pitcher. She's somewhere near the front, he can hear her laugh echo off the walls now that the crowd has faded into the background the deeper they venture into the clubhouse. 

He wants to grab her so they can have a moment for just them, to take stalk of what they did together, mostly of what she did all by herself. He won't lie and say he doesn't deserve some credit, but this win is all Baker's and he wants to congratulate her personally and sincerely when they are alone.

There is also a small part of him, the insecure and immature part, that thinks he shouldn't be alone with her because of how he's feeling right now he's bound to say something he doesn't mean to say out loud. He can rarely hold his tongue around her on the best of days, and he can't promise he won't effusively declare his undying love her the second he gets the chance.

He is at least self aware enough to realize that he should wait until the hype and excitement dies down a bit, if he sees her wide smile and dimples up close he will say something he'll regret. She is savagely disarming.

The press is almost as excited as the players are, all wanting to talk to Ginny, ask her how she felt about that last batter, did she doubt she could do it, what was going through her head during the whole of the 9th inning. They want to hear the secrets behind her power, her strategy, her focus. Each reporter wanting to document history.

By the time the press leaves and the team feels they’ve sufficiently celebrated as much as they can in the clubhouse, everyone is talking about going out to celebrate and he comes back from his ice bath and shower, hoping that Ginny has already left to go prepare for her victory lap with the team in some club that has hosted events for the Padres before.

As he walks towards the clubhouse, his skin still steaming from his shower, he finds Baker sitting in his chair rolling a baseball between her hands. If he had to guess he’d say it is the ball from her final strikeout. She looks pensive and doesn't actually clock that he's standing a few feet away from her until he clears his throat and she startles before looking at him.

The clubhouse is completely empty, the team not wanting to waste a second of celebration time, had all left while Mike was sitting in his ice bath, throwing goodbyes and promises of drinks at him as they passed.

As soon as she makes eye contact, he can feel himself start to get a little shaky. A grin the size of his infinite affection for her takes over her face and she launches herself out of that chair and into his arms, her hands splayed out and holding tightly on his back and shoulders. He’s only got a pair of shorts on, his torso completely open to the air and to her. Ginny’s hands are on his bare skin and he feels lightheaded. He wraps his arms around her, throwing caution to the wind for a second and picking her up just because he wants to hear her laugh loudly and unguardedly, she does not disappoint. 

So this is what it feels like to be completely surrounded by Ginny Baker.

She hasn't showered yet and she smells like dirt, sweat, and the champagne that was being poured over everyone's heads while the thrill of the no-hitter was still immediate and new. 

This is what he was scared of, that they would be alone and they would hug and he would be staunchly against letting her go. 

When he sets her back down and her laughter fades into joyous little giggles, he tightens his arms around her one more time, trying to memorize the feeling of her body so open and comforting against his. When she hugs him back just as tight, if not tighter, his heart stutters in his chest. He wonders how she would feel if they just kept hugging for a few minutes, or hours, or days. He wants to live in her, he wants to put down roots under the shade and care of her body.

For as much as he dwarfs her, he feels about as small as the baseball she'd been holding, completely at her mercy and exactly where he is meant to be. The comparison is not lost on him, because she is the one in control here, and that would terrify him but he's too far gone.

When they finally pull away from each other, Mike is pretty sure he's going to need another shower to get clean again, he's a little dusty and sticky from everything that was on her body. He does not care at all.

She is still beaming up at him like he hung the moon and he can only imagine what his face must be doing, judging by unbearably fond expression on her face, he's looking at her in a similar way.

He's the first to break the silence. 

"So, what did you do today?" He says in an overly casual tone.

She does that gorgeous thing where she puts her hand over her smile and laughs behind her palm. If he wasn't already a complete goner, that would have sealed the deal. 

God, he just wants to talk with her every day, learn as much as he can, find out all her favourite foods then cook them for her, he wants to sing Katy Perry songs in his car loudly and badly with her, he wants to know the exact expression she makes when she is dead to the world asleep in his bed.

But since all of that is wholly impossible he settles for making her laugh as much and as often as possible, guiding her as best he can and offering unconditional support whenever needed. It's not nearly enough but he takes what he can get and is grateful for the opportunity to exist as close to her as he does, he's one lucky sonofabitch to be witness to her greatness. 

She drops her hand and her face is full of mirth, gorgeous and bright and he really has to stop starring. She schools her expression into one of feigned indifference.

"Nothing that exciting, what 'bout you?" She pursing her lips to keep from smiling but her eyes betray her the most, big, brown, and shining brighter than the sun.

He shrugs a little dramatically, hoping their conversation will stay jovial and easy.

"Played a little baseball, you know, the usual." He's nodding at her and as much as he tries to keep his expression neutral, he's no match for his rookie, he bursts out laughing and against his better judgment he hugs her again. 

She laughs into his arms, her hands around his waist rather than his shoulders this time, she folds into his body and this hug feels substantially more intimate. Like his body has a mind of its own, acting in almost complete opposition to his rational mind, one hand goes around her waist and the other wraps gently around the back of her head. 

Their laughter fades quickly as she nuzzles deeper into his arms, his beard tickling her forehead and his fingers flexing, ten amazing points of contact.

He both curses himself and counts himself lucky that he's not wearing a shirt, because he can feel her breath on his chest and all he can think about is how this would feel if they were horizontal and on a bed on a lazy Sunday morning. 

She would probably feel something like this, he bets that she would get up early for a run, sometimes he'd be able convinced her not to, explaining that she could get just as much exercise in his company than she would wearing her sneakers outside.

She would come back from runs a little sweaty, skin tacky and she would flop onto him, poking fun about how old men like him need more beauty rest than they rest of the world. He could feel it so clearly, he could almost taste her skin on his tongue. 

If someone walked into the clubhouse right now it would just look like a pitcher and her catcher sharing a congratulatory hug. Except for the fact that they'd been standing in each other's arms for at least two minutes now with no sign of stopping in sight. He wonders if he willed her to hug him non-stop, his dreams are actually coming true. 

He got to help her pitch a no-hitter and now he's hugging her and breathing her in unashamedly, only because she seems to be doing the same, and this is by far one of the best days he's had since he can remember. If anything else good happens he'll probably keel over or burst or break into tears. He feels like a live wire, sparking intermittently and tense with unused energy. 

Right before she lets go, Ginny does something that will go down as perhaps one of the best thing she's even done, she rubs her nose just a little bit into his chest before lifting her head slowly and kissing his cheek.

Not expecting that at all, never having seen her kiss anyone let alone kiss anyone on the cheek, he breathes in sharply and looks down at her, their faces are barely inches apart. 

The breath that he'd felt on his chest he can now feel on his lips. He's about an inch away from her mouth and if he dipped his head slightly they would connect and he could die a happy man. The most famous woman in the world right now, and rather than be out celebrating, is here with him. 

Mike is about to try and force himself to pull away when Ginny leans up and connects their mouths softly and hesitantly, like she’s giving him a gift she isn’t sure he'll like. A breath comes out of him like a punch against his better judgement and she pulls away to look up at him with trepidation in her eyes.

It looks like she’s about to open her mouth and maybe apologize and Mike quickly rectifies the situation, swooping down and capturing her lips, much less hesitantly than she had, but still cautiously. He feels like he’s about to jump out of his skin, both from overwhelming fear and unmitigated joy. 

He wishes he could muster some of the ease and calm he'd felt while they were playing baseball, where they knew each other so perfectly, where they were on equal ground with one shared goal between them. He could read her stance, her body, how much her arm needed a rest based on how often she rolled her shoulders, everything down to how anxious she was depending on how many times she adjusted her ball cap.

But here, right now, with her so close and her lips moving slowly but assuredly against his own, he feels so out of his depth he thinks this is what drowning must feel like. Drowning in her taste and in the way one of her hands comes up to his face, the way he could feel her fingers scratch lightly as his beard, the way her other hand had migrated from his back, leaving a tingling trail along its path to rest on his arm.

They keep the kiss slow and exploratory, every time they part, Ginny chases his lips again, bringing him back down to her level and he follows helplessly. A small part of his brain, the only part that was still working and not wholly focused on Ginny Baker, was telling him they should stop because they were still standing in the open clubhouse and while it seemed like everyone had left, there was no way to be sure.

Mike was not going to let someone walking in on them ruin whatever this was, Mike humourlessly thought that if anyone was going to ruin this, it would most likely be by his own doing.

He gave Ginny one last kiss, hoping to convey everything he was feeling through his lips and his hands and his body, before slowly pulling back and looking at her.

Christ.

Her cheeks were a little flushed, her breath was slightly faster than normal, her lips looked deliciously kissed and her eyes were still closed. She looked like a dream, like a living breathing dream he'd concocted in his own mind. Her eyes opened slowly and when she looked at him, it was like the fourth of July, New Years, and his birthday all in one. She was spectacular.

She smiled shyly up at him and he smiled back at her. God, he wanted to pause this moment right here, not deal with consequences, not have a realistic talk about their relationship, not leave and not take her with him.

Luckily, once again, she took the lead and made the decision for him.

"I know we should probably talk, or something, but what do you say to just going out with the team, having fun and celebrating the fact that I pitched a no-hitter today?"

Her voice is high and a little breathless which satisfies him to no end. It all comes out just a little rushed, she's clearly nervous about what his reaction will be and he wants to tell her he loves her so badly, if only because it would make her lose all doubt in herself and in him.

But considering she wants to celebrate her win, which is well within her right and completely understandable, he doesn't push, no matter how much the words are sitting on his tongue, begging to be said. He settles for saying it in his mind over and over again while he looks at her, hoping his face conveys the magnitude of what he feels for her.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He feels himself nod slowly at her.

"I'd say that sounds like a plan, rookie."

She's still smiling at him and goddamn if that isn't a site he's already way too used to.

"I need to shower the bubbly off of me, wanna wait for me?" She is looking less hesitant now.

He chuckles lightly.

"Baker, I think I'm going to need to shower again too," he gestures down to his torso, some dirt visible in patches along his skin from where it had transferred from her uniform. 

She looks down at his chest and her eyes go a little dark; she bites her lip and he can practically feel her gaze as it travels slowly from his abdomen back up to his eyes.

She doesn't look the least bit apologetic, instead he sees desire, pure and simple, all over her face. If she doesn't stop he's going to embarrass himself and suggest they shower together. 

One of her hands reaches up and brushes his stomach, just beside his belly button where the dirt is most visible, his muscles tense at her touch and she most definitely notices judging by the devastatingly satisfied smile that graces her features.

She hasn't broken eye contact and Mike is floundering. If this is what he feels when she's purposefully brushing his stomach, he is going to be completely unprepared if she wants to further their relationship. 

God, he's going to need to take up meditation, or yoga, anything to keep him calm. 

Her hand drops and his heartbeat slows along with it, she steps back, giving them some breathing room. Judging by the way she’s shifting from foot to foot, she's contemplating how to go forward. She does the same thing on the mound.

She takes a steadying breath.

"Meet you back here in 20?" She says, looking at him expectantly.

"Sounds good," he replies.

"Good." She nods once, determinedly.

"Good." He repeats.

She squints at him a second before opening her mouth again, then closing it. She huffs a laugh out and then, meeting his eyes one more time, nods again and walks around him, heading to her personal shower. 

Unable to stop himself, he turns and watches her leave, letting his eyes rake over her slowly. He's not as sad as he normally is to see her walk away, knowing that sooner rather than later, he'd see her walking back towards him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bar and everything that follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So wow, you guys. The response to this story has been so overwhelmingly kind and wonderful! I got inspired and decided to write a part two, thank you to everyone who showed interest in more of the story!
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: In my universe, Mike never actually waived his no-trade clause so there was no intense moment outside the bar, no angry Kangaroo court, etc. 
> 
> Come chat and visit on tumblr if you'd like: macaroni-rascal.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy! <3 <3 <3

They make small talk all the way out of Petco and into the parking lot to Mike's car, keeping the tone light and easy. They chat about a few of the hitters, Mike tries not to gush like an over excited fan and fails a couple times, to Ginny's great delight. By the time he realizes he's been singing her praises for three solid minutes, she is looking at him with amusement and a small amount of quiet disbelief. 

He remembers the first time his mentor had raved about his playing in a similar manner, it was one of the best feelings of his career. To have someone you respect and admire so highly, respect and admire you right back is a singular feeling. Mike found it humbling and unbelievably overwhelming; now that he'd impressed one of his idols, a bar had been set. 

He doesn't want to inundate Ginny with just how proud of her he is, he understands first hand what it's like to be put on a pedestal when you feel undeserving. As much as the rookie pitcher had come into her own in the past few months, feelings of inadequacy don't just disappear because of one game. One amazing and historic game, but one game nonetheless. 

He backs off a little, cracks a joke about the guy she walked in the 6th and lets the conversation steer back to safe territory. She looks wonderfully grateful.

Something shifts when they get into his car, maybe it's the enclosed space or the fact that they are sitting relatively close to each other in the confined area of Mike's sports car. He wants to turn the radio on so the background noise can fill the charged silence but she reaches up to do the same and they knock fingers like two teenagers on a first date. 

God, he feels like a damn teenager. She makes him feel completely at ease and unspeakably nervous at the same time. They share a quick, if slightly awkward, smile and she gestures for him to pick a station. He quickly turns it to some easy listening station and they are off towards the bar where the team had congregated. 

He spares a quick glance over at her, hair still damp and in a loose ponytail and bobbing her head slightly to music, looking out the window, a small contented smile colouring her face. 

What if they didn't go to the bar? What if he just drove them somewhere and they could exist as Mike and Ginny for a little while, not as Lawson and Baker in a dark, loud, over crowded room filled with hoards of people all wanting to interact with them. 

He lets himself fantasize about driving to some quiet spot and making out with her in the car like the teenagers they were so hell bent on acting like. She would climb into his lap, he'd take her hair out of the ponytail and let the sweet-spicy smell of her shampoo surround him. He could smell it a little with her where she was, he hoped it would linger in his car after she left. Well, he actually hopes that she and her lovely smelling hair will just get back into his car when the night is over. 

He isn't planning on drinking much that evening anyway, he wants a clear head just in case...well, just in case. Baker had said she wanted to celebrate but she had prefaced it by saying they should talk. He doubts they would discuss anything substantial tonight, but he doesn’t want to risk it. He cares far too much about his rookie to let his drunken self do something ridiculous and damaging. His sober self was a different story, but at least he would have more control over his words and actions. 

They listen to the radio in silence the rest of the ride, though Mike can see Ginny throwing furtive glances his way from his periphery. She’s chewing on her cheek again. The feeling he got in the dugout returns and magnifies tenfold, now that he knows what her lips felt like on his and just how well he could distract her. 

Fuck.

Focus. He scolds himself. This was Ginny's night to celebrate her monumental accomplishment and hard work, the last thing she needed was a lovesick veteran catcher starring at her like a besotted fool. Which is exactly what he was: a damn fool. 

But he had felt what it was like to catch smoke, she wasn't so out of reach anymore. In fact, he had held her, tightly and intimately with his own hands, felt her coil around him, felt her settle into his body like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

That feeling was worth chasing and it was certainly worth acting like a fool over. 

Mike parks on the street across from the bar and shuts off the engine, but doesn't leave the car when he realizes Ginny was very obviously not going anywhere. She keeps looking at him then down at her hands, then back at him. 

"You alright there, Baker?" 

She takes a long deep breath and shifts in her seat so that her upper body was facing him. 

"Before we go in and the mayhem starts, I just wanted to say thank you."

Her eyes look a little wet and he fights the urge to grab one of her hands and fold it into his own. He clears his throat, feeling a lump start to form. Before he could crack a joke about how he really did deserve all the credit she started speaking again. 

"I probably could have done it without you, but I'm really glad I didn't have to."

She smiles at him, a little amused, but sincere.

She really was going to make it impossible for him not to kiss her again, wasn't she? 

It didn't happen very often, but Mike was at a loss for words. He didn't want to make a joke anymore, she deserved more than that. He’s only slightly afraid that if he opens his mouth he will say something inappropriate. He always gives away a little too much when it comes to her, she disarms any filter he may have and he always ended up playing catch up to his own words.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't have to do it without me either, rookie."

Somehow possible, her smile gets more beautiful as she looks at him with such affection that he is now absolutely sure he's going to kiss her again before the end of the night.

She breaks the starring contest they'd somehow started to look down at her hands again. He sees her furrow her brow and is about to ask her if she's sure she wants to go to the bar when she lifts her head and looks at him with the same level of determination she usually reserves for the field.

Quick as anything, she leans over, grabbing his face with both hands, and pushes her mouth against his. 

His body's muscle memory is working faster than his brain because all of a sudden, his hands are on her face too and he's tilting her head to get a better angle to deepen the kiss. He's weighing the pros and cons of seriously suggesting they skip the party when a loud drunk cheer from somewhere down the street causes Ginny to jump and pull back. 

Her eyes flick quickly out the front window to see a group of wasted people stumble their way out of another bar further down the block.

She licks her lips and brings one hand up to scratch at the side of her mouth, looks back at him and blushes slightly. She lets out a little giggle that makes him feel giddy and like maybe a flock of butterflies has taken up residence somewhere behind in belly button. 

He does not want to leave this car, he's going through every reason he can think of to convince her to skip the dumb party and go with him somewhere when she turns and gets out of the car. She crouches down to level him with an expectant look.

"You comin’, old man?"

Just like that he's out of the car and following her into the bar like there was any chance of him not doing exactly what she asked.

There is a loud chorus of cheers and clapping as they enter, Sonny and Salvamini are chanting "Ba-ker" and it's fairly obvious the majority of the team is well into their cups. Ginny's joyous smile and loud laugh are devastatingly radiant in the worst and best ways possible. 

Drinks are being shoved into their hands before they even sit down in the private section the team has, separated from the rest of the bar. Mike plops down close enough to Ginny to feel the warmth of her body but not so close that he can still smell her shampoo. He calls it a win for his self-control. 

She's quickly drawn into a conversation with Rhobles who's sitting to her right and looking at her in awe and reverence, which Mike understand but doesn't like overly much. Not to say he doesn't think Ginny should be revered, because God knows he wants to worship at her alter in any way she'll allow him. But just him. Only him. 

He takes a quick sip of beer and glances away from Rhobles' puppy dog look. He can't fault others for seeing in Ginny all that he sees, doesn't mean he has to like it though. 

He catches Blip walking back from the bar, holding a few more beers in his hands, he passes them along to different players before he sits himself down next to his captain. Mike is grateful for the distraction because he can half hear Rhobles going on and on to Ginny about her pitches and if he holds his beer bottle any tighter it might just shatter in his hand.

"Mike! Man, what took you guys so long?" Blips words, while not slurred are definitely a little garbled by the drinks he's no doubt had while he and Ginny were taking their sweet time. 

He wishes he would have taken longer, maybe hugged her for a few extra minutes, kissed her a couple more times before pulling away. Because if he had to compare his mood from then to now, he has a clear and obvious preference as to what he'd rather be doing. Mike skirts the question, not actually having a good reason for why they showed up as late as they did. 

"How many drinks have you had, Sanders?" He keeps his voice light, not that he thinks Blip would notice, considering how glazed his eyes are.

"The Padres had their first no-hitter today, Lawson! I'm celebrating! Our girl did us proud!" He's yelling a touch too loud over the music but Mike can’t help but smile at his comment. She certainly did. 

He looks back up at Blip, intending to cheers to that and change the subject but the centre fielder is looking at him far too seriously for his current state on inebriation. Mike's stomach drops. Blip has always been annoyingly observant and clever, two qualities that will make him an excellent captain but on occasion make him an incredibly aggravating friend. 

Blip is squinting at him he's trying to read Mike's thoughts and he snaps.

"Spit it out, Sanders." Mike tries to not grind his teeth together only because he knows that Blip knows that means he's uneasy.

"Why were you guys so late?" 

There is no way in hell Blip could actually know what happened between them. Baker wasn't wearing lipstick or perfume or anything that could have transferred to him as evidence of their kiss. Kisses. 

Wow, he's kissed Ginny Baker twice. 

His face must have betrayed his thoughts because all of a sudden there is a finger in his face and Blip is looking at him like he's on the witness stand and wants him to crack and divulge his secrets.

"What did you do?" Blips prompts again, looking more and more suspicious of him. Mike tries valiantly not to shift in his seat and maintain eye contact. He's not actually on trial for anything, his drunk friend is just being a nosy piece of work. He's fine. It's all fine.

He smacks Blips finger out of his face and tries to seem as casual as possible.

"Would you calm down, Sherlock. Baker had to shower all the champagne out of her hair and needed a ride so I stayed back to wait for her."

He takes another, longer swig of his beer before turning back to look at Blip, keeping his brow furrowed so he looks like his normal curmudgeony self. 

Blip doesn't look completely convinced but luckily a server deposits a large platter of shots on the middle table of their giant open booth, letting them know it's on the house in honour of the Padres' win. 

The boisterous baseball players hoot and holler their appreciation as the shots get passed around to everyone. As soon as each player has a shot in their hand, a few of the boys look to Ginny and start chanting for a speech, which is quickly adopted by the rest of the team and the rookie, with her own shot, stands up laughing. The guys finally quiet down to sit back and listen to their teammate. 

She takes a quick look around at all of them, from up close he can tell she needs to take a few swallows before her voice will come out even. He wants to put a comforting hand somewhere to help ground her but he keeps one hand at his side, the other holding the shot that Blip forced on him.

"I won't get sentimental because we all know that Dusty will start crying and it would bring the whole vibe down." 

The table laughs uproariously and he hears Voorhies yell, "one time!" before looking comically disgruntled, he's well chided by the guys until he lifts his drink again and laughs along with the team. 

They quiet down and turn their attention back to Ginny.

"I've never been more proud to call myself a Padre and I couldn't have done it without all of you so thank you for being the best, dumbest, pile of idiots a pitcher could ask for."

She smiles at all of them and Mike almost gets choked up looking at his team looking at their rookie. As much as they made baseball history today, he is just as proud of the team they'd become that had allowed them to make that history. 

All the guys are looking at Ginny with big happy smiles on their faces, drinks in the air. 

Ginny shouts "Padres!" and a resounding chorus echoes her sentiment as they all take their shots, loud yells and cheers following the sound of the glasses being slammed back onto the tables.

Mike toasts to the Padres and takes the shot, the only one he'll have of the night. Ginny plops back down next to him, a little bit closer than before she got up. Their legs are touching and when she shifts in her seat their arms brush against each other.

Someone at the other end of the booth yells for more shots and Sonny shoots out of his seat to go order another round for the table. Salvi suggests dancing and half the guys get up to join him, they yell for Baker to come with them and he tenses because is she's going then he's going too.

She laughs and shakes her head, gesturing that she wants to finish her beer. The guys rib her a little as they leave towards the crowded dance floor, Salvi immediately starts that strange dance he does where it looks like he's miming pulling himself along a rope before doing some weird flapping move with his arms. Voorhies on the other hand is doing an intense hip jutting thing Mike wishes he wasn't watching and doing some move that looked like he was putting on hats. 

His team may be a bunch of mooks, but they were certainly something special. 

Rhobles had thankfully left to dance, not before checking with Ginny twice that she was sure she didn't want to join him. Mike levels a glare to the back of Omar's head as he makes his way over to the dance floor with the rest of team.

Blip’s still sitting next to him and Ginny is happily watching the team dance while sipping slowly at her beer. After the third-time Blip’s shoulder bumps into his, he turns and looks at his friend bracing himself, thinking he’s going to be on the receiving end of more probing questions. Instead, the tipsy ball player is all but dancing in his seat, clearly feeling the music and the alcohol in his system.

Mike pats him on the back and shoves him up towards the dance floor where he dances his way to join the rest of the Padres. Ginny lets out a particularly loud laugh when Blip and Shrek start to have, what looks like, a dance battle. 

Mike chuckles along with her, watching their teammates with fondness in his eyes. She twists her body and leans a little closer to his ear so she doesn't have to speak as loud, he only just stops himself from leaning into her so he can feel her breath on his face. 

"You gonna dance tonight, Lawson?" She leans back and grins at him playfully. 

He's never danced at one of these before, at least not in the past four or five years or so. He usually prefers to sit and drink his alcohol, chatting with the guys and keeping an eye out for any particularly bad fuck ups his teammates may decide to perpetrate while inebriated. 

He stares at her adoringly maybe a touch too long before leaning into her body and bringing his mouth up close to her ear. He feels more than sees how her body reacts to his, the air is charged around them, static, and making the rest of the club dim into the background. 

They've always been able to exist in their own little world, cut out the useless noise and distractions around them to focus completely on one another. He should have known that as soon as that translated off the field into anything romantic, it would be like a lit match next to gasoline. 

They keep dancing closer and farther from each other, nearly catching flame with each pass. He wants to be consumed. 

"Only if you do, Baker."

He pulls back and takes a sip of beer to try and reorient himself, he feels open and vulnerable with her in their little section of the booth. He much preferred the car. When he chances a glance back to Ginny, she's looking at him like maybe she wants to burst into flames just as bad as he does. 

Her dart from his eyes to lips and back again, her face betraying every single thing she wants and Mike is not complaining. For so long he has schooled his expressions around her, forced himself not to stare as long as he'd like, not appreciate as openly as he wanted. 

Whether they further their relationship or they decide to halt their progression, something has shifted between them to a place he does not want to come back from. He feels like he just found undiscovered country and he wants to plant a flag on the land so he can exist in a new reality where Ginny Baker looks at him like she wants to devour him whole. 

He does not want to lose that look in her eye almost more than he wants his knees and back to be ten years younger. 

She nods slowly at him, biting her lip and he's never been jealous of another persons’ teeth before but he's long past being surprised by the new and distinct feelings his rookie summons within him. He hasn't bitten her lip yet and right now he's never wanted anything more. He wonders if she'd like it, if she'd make a sound, if she'd bite his lip back in retaliation. He smirks a little because he's almost certain she would. His rookie does not like to be one-upped by anyone, least of all him.

When he started shifting his thinking to call her "his rookie" he doesn't know but it's furiously telling and he makes a pact with himself to try as hard as he can not to say "my rookie" in her presence. He of course has no idea if this will actually work, evidence would suggest Baker has more control over what he says in her company than he does. 

They break eye contact at the same time and turn back to their beers, lifting and drinking in perfect synchronicity. He throws a cursory glance back to the dance floor to see his teammates continue to makes complete asses of themselves. Out of the corner of his eye he sees her doing the same, a contented smile firmly planted on her lips. 

He wonders how she's feeling at this exact moment. He is unable to imagine everything this strong and capable woman has gone through to arrive where she is. He knows with unwavering certainty that she deserves everything she's achieved and much, much more. He was witness to her tense relationship with her mom and they hadn't really spoken about her dad much. From what he understands, she never talks about it. He can empathize with that better than most. He’s so thankful she’s found a sort of family with the Padres.

He wishes her dad were still alive so he could see what his daughter has accomplished, he's certain he'd be proud.

The difference between how she was treated from her first game to now is like night and day. He wishes she didn't had to have fought so hard to be accepted but he's willing to bet she's used to it by now. A fact which makes his heart break for her a little. 

God, he remembers calling her a gimmick to the rest of the team. He allows himself to sit in self-loathing for a few moments before his rational mind starts asking him questions like: how was he supposed to know? How was he supposed to know that she would be one of, if not the, best pitchers he'd ever seen or worked with? How was he supposed to know that his girl (woman) was going to change how he thought about the game, his teammates, his own life? 

He never expected her but God help him if he isn't unspeakably grateful. 

She downs the rest of her beer and looks over at him expectantly, her eyebrows raising in quiet challenge.

He follows her lead, finishes off his beer and gets up to trail behind her to the dance floor. The team sees them coming and there are excited shouts of "Lawson!" and "Baker!" as they fold themselves into the group of sweaty baseballs players. 

Salvi wraps an arm around his shoulders and starts to sway back and forth with him, Mike chuckles and bobs along with him, looking over at Ginny who has her head tipped back, laughing loudly and happily at him with the rest of the team. She starts to dance around with them, removing the hair tie and letting her hair bounce around with her movements.

She is devastatingly stunning. 

The team is cheering her on and she's dancing and free and gorgeous and how could you not be in love with her?

The rest of the guys come over and join them and soon the entire team of the San Diego Padres are dancing around like idiots in celebration of their no-hitter, Ginny in the middle, almost like they are back on the field: Baker at the epicentre and the rest of the team supporting her. 

Mike catches Blip watching him watch Ginny with a suspicious look on his face and Mike quickly focused his attention back on Salvamini who has yet to let him go. He wraps an arm around the ball player and starts dancing more in earnest to Salvi's, and the rest of the teams, great entertainment. 

He hears a few people whooping "Old Man Lawson!" as he shuffles and jigs around the dance floor. He can still hear Baker's laugh above the din, hoarse and perfect. He catches eyes with her across the floor, she smiles at him and shakes her head fondly which in turn makes him feel a little weightless. He doesn’t want Blip seeing any more than he already has so after the next song finishes he makes his way back over to their private booth to take a load off. As much as he was ignoring his knees during the game, they weren't in such good shape that he could dance as long as he'd like. He settles for keeping an eye on Baker from afar, like he normally does when the team goes out. 

He foolishly didn't realize that that meant he'd be alone at the booth, a perfect circumstance for Blip to interrogate him again. Mike is in no mood to be questioned by the centre fielder. 

Mike watches as Blip makes his way back over towards him, two beers in his hands, setting one in front of him and keeping one for himself, sitting next to him, clearly intent on talking to him about Ginny. 

"Look, whatever you're planning on saying it's nothing I haven't told myself multiple times, alright?" Mike speaks lowly but loud enough that Sanders could hear him over the music. 

He glances over at Blip to see him looking at him with pity and understanding.

"See that's what worries me, Mike. You've told yourself things but I'm still seeing you look at her like you've been looking at her." Blip places what should be comforting hand on his shoulder, but mostly feels patronizing. 

Mike wants to lie to Blip and tell him it's not as big of a deal as he was making it out to be, but he couldn't. It was a big deal, it certainly felt like one. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had made him feel how she does, except maybe his ex wife near the beginning of their relationship, but even then, something was different with Ginny. Something substantial was different and it would feel disrespectful to try and lie about it. 

When Mike doesn't answer, not really knowing what to say to make his friend both leave him alone and convince him it wasn't an issue, Blip continues:

"Look, man, I just care about you guys and I don't want to see something happen that you both know can't and shouldn't happen." 

Mike takes a long drink of his beer and a few deep breaths before answering.

"Like I said, nothing I haven't told myself multiple times."

That seems to satisfy Blip enough that the conversation ends, at least for the moment. God, he wishes Blip had just let it be because now the small voice in the back of his head, the voice that told him to hook up with Amelia after he saw Ginny dance for the first, the same voice that almost made him waive his no-trade clause was telling him he should leave the bar, leave Ginny, and let her enjoy her night without having him there to pull focus. 

He's a cranky, old, veteran catcher with bad knees. What business did he have attaching himself to Ginny Baker, a bright, young rookie at the start of what was looking to be a long and fulfilling career? No business, he had no business at all. 

God, why couldn't Blip have left him alone? Why did he have to be best friends with such an observant asshat? 

He was spiralling deeper into his own self-loathing when the team slowly trickled back to the booths, all of them sweaty and in different states breathlessness. Ginny was dancing her way back with Omar, who spun her once before dipping her and letting her spin away again. 

Why couldn't he be like Rhobles? Just an idiot with a crush on a pretty girl, not head over heels in love and falling deeper with each passing day. 

Baker sat back down on the other side of Blip, her face flushed and shiny with perspiration from the heat of the dance floor. She was bouncing lightly in her seat, carefree and immaculate. Blip turns to her and they start talking about something or other, Mike blocks them out, preferring to list the reasons in his head as to why he couldn't be with Ginny.

1\. She is a 23-year-old rookie and he is a 36-year-old divorcee.  
2\. She is about to start her career and his is ending.  
3\. She is the first female played in the MLB and she could not date her captain.  
4\. If word got out they did anything she would be unfairly crucified.  
5\. She is much too good for him.

He’s about to start on number 6 when a hand reaches from behind Blips back and gives his shoulder a shove. Baker leans forward and gives him a wide smile.

"Some moves you got there, Lawson. I think I heard your knees crack over the music." Her and Blip have a good laugh at his expense and he chortles along with them. He shakes his head lightly before responding, trying to keep his voice easy and joking.

"You wish you had my moves, rookie." He thinks she must have been given another shot or two when he was talking with Blip because her eyes are a little shiny and she throws her head back and laughs loudly, still swaying in her seat a little.

"If we ever go to a sock hop, you'll be who I go to for dance advice." She steals Blips beer from his hand and takes a few sips before her attention is pulled away by some of the team sitting across from her. She’s immediately engrossed in conversation.

Blip’s still giggling at her sock hop comment and trying to get his beer back from Ginny, who decides the best way to make Blip stop is to just chug the whole thing, to the teams’ great enthusiasm. Blip shakes his head at Ginny as she laughs in his face, unashamed and slightly proud of herself. 

"But that's the last one, I don't do hangovers," she laughs when Blip asks her to get him another beer then, shaking her head at him like he was crazy for asking. 

"I pitched a no-hitter today, I am getting no one's drink!" She yells loudly so the whole team can hear her, they all cheer and shout their agreement. 

Sonny laughs at her from across the table, "Is that how you're going to be now? Queen Ginny can't even get her poor teammates a drink?"

She smiles wide and unperturbed at him.

"Sonny, when you pitch a no-hitter, come talk to me."

Sonny laughs loudly and proudly, the rest of the guys joining in, everyone in too good a mood for any other reaction. 

Mike is seriously considering leaving and avoiding Ginny for as long as possible, Blip's words and his own reasoning bouncing around his head, making him rethink everything he and Baker had done up until this point. 

Sonofabitch he always does this, he lets himself feel too much, say too much, then gets scared and retreats into overly hasty decision making and self-loathing. Whereas before he felt like they were a match and gasoline, he thinks she's the fire all by herself and he's trying desperately to keep warm; leeching heat from her and venturing as close to the flames as he dares. 

He wants to be close, he wants to be warmed by her but like Blip said, it can't and shouldn't happen. It's going to be immensely more difficult to try and re-order his life around her now that they've kissed, especially considering she initiated both of them. He wishes he'd kissed her once before he realized how fucked he is, but it's probably for the better. At least this way, he can take comfort in knowing he isn't the complete asshole that kissed her and ignored her, he'll just be the asshole that kissed her back and then ignored her. 

He hangs his head for a minute, trying to force himself up and out of the bar, into his car, and home so he can drown his sorrows safely where no one can be witness to his pathetic self-destruction. 

He overhears Baker tell Blip says she's getting up to get some water and use the bathroom and he takes his opportunity before he loses his nerve. He slides past Blip and says he's heading out quick enough that Blip can't question or judge him for it, he gives a few high fives as he leaves, accepts some ribbing for being old and not fun and makes his way out of bar.

He doesn't stop and think about how Ginny will feel when she realizes he left without saying goodbye, he doesn't let himself envisage the look on her face or what the impact of what he's doing will have on her, on them. 

He gets to his car, unlocks it and is about to open his door when he's stopped.

"Lawson!" 

He looks up and sees Ginny quickly crossing the street towards him, a confused and hurt look on her face. He didn't want to imagine that expression and now he's witnessing it first hand. Shit.

He settles for being gruff and standoffish, hoping she'll get the message and let him go in peace.

"What, Baker?" His voice is low and a little angry and he just wants to leave.

She squints at him trying to figure what happened between their car ride and now that would garner this sort of response from him. He’s not going to explain that his self esteem and Blip were the main causes, so he just looks back at her, raising his eyebrows impatiently. He's devolved from teenager to toddler, throwing a tantrum because he realized he can't have what he wants. 

She's still on the other side of the car, not venturing over to him on the sidewalk once she realized his apparent and sudden shift in mood. 

"Where are you going?" She says it like she can't believe he's making her ask the question. 

"Home, rookie. Like you said, my old bones aren't cut out for this stuff." He says it sardonically and he hates himself just a little.

The confused look on her face grows deeper and she's glancing around, like she's all of a sudden realized she's lost and is looking for a point of familiarity.

She crosses her arms over her chest, a defence against him and protection for herself. She's shaking her head back and forth a little, brow furrowed. Mike's about to make another pithy comment when a resolute look takes over her face, she drops her arms and walks closer so that she has her hand on the handle of the passenger’s side door.

"Baker? Wh--"

"I'm coming with you." She says it like she can just make a unilateral decision and he'll go along with it without making a fuss. 

"It wasn't an invitation, Baker. Go celebrate your no-hitter with the team." He shoos her away with one hand and opens his door to get into the car. He sputters a little when she opens hers and climbs in with him.

"I swear to God, rookie," he's so close to saying something cruel that he can't take back, he feels like a cornered animal.

"Look, you are the person I actually want to celebrate with, okay? We got that no-hitter today, you and me. I don't care if you're being cranky, I'd still rather celebrate with just you."

And just like that every ounce of resistance bleeds from his body. It's like she has secret map of him, like she knows the exact path she needs to travel to find where he's hidden himself. 

"Are you gonna let me?" She demands, her voice unwavering.

Rather than speak, because he can't seem to swallow away the lump in his throat, he nods, sticks the key in the ignition and starts to make his way to his house, a smiling and satisfied Ginny Baker beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a part three...I can't leave it there, I'm not that cruel.
> 
> Comment if you'd like, its always appreciated! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Ginny get some quality alone time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter!
> 
> I can't believe this grew into what it became, I really hope everyone enjoys it! I know I enjoyed writing it and getting into these characters more. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented and gave kudos and showed support, it means a lot!
> 
> Come chat on tumblr if you'd like: macaroni-rascal.tumblr.com/
> 
> <3

The car ride to Mike's house is just as charged, if not more so, than their trip to the bar. Mike is emotionally and physically drained and he can only imagine how Ginny must be feeling. She doesn't look as tense and he is, but he can still see her fidgeting with her sleeves.

How did he go from being so hopeful the night would end this way to being nervous as hell that it was actually happening? He thinks he should be more excited, but he mostly wants them to talk to each other honestly and openly; for all their intense moments and meaningful looks, Mike just want to hear what she’s thinking, what she wants from this, from him. Eye contact can only go so far, he wants audible confirmation. 

Mike thinks there is a very real fear that as soon as they say the words out loud, it will become real and something they need to deal with, rather than just the unspoken connection they share. There is a lot on the line, more so for her than him to be sure, but he's going to be affected nonetheless. 

Ginny is such a fearless person, in that she may be afraid but she doesn’t let it stop her from doing and achieving what she wants. He has watched her fight nearly every day to be accepted and respected by her teammates. The game of baseball and the MLB have been waiting for Ginny, she is where she’s meant to be and he doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. 

He realizes belatedly that Ginny has never been to his house before and he really hopes he remembered the pick up his dirty clothes off the floor. Wouldn't that be something, Baker seeing his place for the first time and his sweaty gym clothes are all over the place. God, she makes him nervous. 

She lets out a small incredulous laugh as they pull up his driveway. She turns and throws him a disbelieving look. 

"So, you live in a giant fish bowl, huh?" She smirks at him as he parks. 

"Yeah, yeah, Baker. I've heard it all." He sneers back at her and gets out of the car. She follows behind him, still fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt. 

He gestures for her to enter the house ahead of him, letting her take the lead. Mike watches as she walks around slowly, looking at the posters on his walls, inspecting his things and smiling intermittently. 

"Not what you pictured?" He asks, keeping things light for the moment.

"Who said I pictured anything?" She grins over her should at him, walking deeper into his house.

This is where he likes to exist, when they flirt casually with each other and nothing intense or real happens, this is where he is comfortable. He's also a little miserable, but he's safe, protected by the distance. 

Can he make up his damn mind already? He's starting to get frustrated with himself, he can only imagine how she must be feeling to be on the receiving end of his temperamental mood swings. If nothing else happens tonight, they are going to talk because this limbo they are currently inhabiting is not just exhausting, it could be damaging to their friendship and everything they've cultivated since she got called up.

He will try his hardest to set aside all his long-held insecurities, be as open with her as he can and just hope for the best. He really wants to find out what she is thinking, how she wants to move forward, if at all. 

As much as he's feeling anxious about what is going to happen over the course of the evening, the sight of her in his house is annoyingly satisfying. He's pictured her here before, what it would be like if they were together, how she would exist in his space. He's fantasized more than he'd like to admit and while the circumstances of the reality aren't exactly ideal, he's still thankful she's there at all. 

Mike offers her a drink of water that she no doubt didn't end up getting at the bar, they migrate to his kitchen. She takes a few sips and looks at him over the rim of her glass like she wants to kiss him again. 

He must have gotten distracted by her because next thing he knows he's lifting Ginny onto to the counter and digging his fingers into her hips, holding her in place and kissing her like they may die tomorrow. She moans and he can feel it in his entire body down to his toes. Her hands are grabbing fistfuls of his hair and if he did die right now, he wouldn't complain. There are worse ways to go than being kissed to death by Ginny Baker.

When her hands wander from his hair down to his chest and start to work the buttons of his shirt open, Mike knows he needs to stop her otherwise the next words out of his mouth are going to be a request that she take off her clothing. 

Mike forces himself to remove his hands from her waist and grab her by the wrists, halting her movements. She pulls back to look at him, both of them breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?" She asks, not struggling in his grip. She can feel very prominently how much he wants her and she looks impatient and lustful and why did he stop her again? His eyes drift down to her lips.

He leans back in and kisses her one more time, giving her bottom lip a bite like he wanted to so badly in the bar; a choked whimper escapes her mouth and she wiggles against him, trying to get her hands back to his shirt. That whimper is now his new favourite sound, he wants to record it, he wants it to be his ringtone, he wants to make her make that noise every day, multiple times a day, for the rest of his life.

He's still holding her wrists in his hands and she makes a frustrated sound before pulling back and levelling him with an inquisitive look. Or as inquisitive as she can manage with kiss bitten lips and a flushed face.

"Is this, like a thing for you?" She asks, her voice low and husky.

He doesn't fully understand what she's asking until she looks down at their hands then looks back at him and raises an eyebrow. He releases her wrists and leans away from her, not stepping back because the feeling of her body against his is proof that God exists. 

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.

"No, rookie, it's not like a thing for me," his voice comes out just a gritty as hers and he clears his throat once before trying to get his mind back to where he can focus on the task at hand.

"Before we continue, I think we should talk," he says it quietly, gently, like he doesn’t want to spook her.

"You want to talk? R-right now?" She sounds disbelieving and he can't blame her, he doesn't necessarily want to talk, but he needs to. It's imperative to maintaining his sanity at this point.

He nods and finally steps away from her, immediately feeling bereft and cold. She slides off the counter, looking unsteady which makes him smugly gratified and gestures that they should go sit down. He sits a respectable distance away from her, close enough that he can grab her hand or cup her cheek but not so close that he'll get distracted. 

Who is he kidding? He's distracted anyway.

She looks at him expectantly, which is understandable considering he's the one who suggested they talk. He should have planned this better, he should have spent the car ride formulating what he wanted to say, instead he spent it wondering if she was going to kiss him again and just how close her definition of "celebrating" was to his. 

He clears his throat again. Then once more. 

"Mike?" He glances at her and she looks understanding, smiling gently at him.

"I want this, you know that right?" She says in a soft voice, placing her hand in his. 

"Define "this", Baker," his voice matching her tone. He feels like he just asked the pretty girl to dance and he's waiting in limbo to see if she’ll accept or not. Or maybe more accurately: he feels like the pretty girl is already dancing with him and he's asking her if she wants to go steady.

Go steady. God, he is old. Too old.

She keeps her hand in his but brings the other one up to scratch at her mouth, ducking her eyes away from him and looking more nervous than he's seen her in a while.

"What do you think this is?" She asks.

"I asked you first," he replies gruffly, before a small smile overtakes his face.

She snorts and shakes her head at him. They look at each other fondly for a few seconds. He soldiers on.

"Look, you have the most to lose if something happens between us and people find out. I just want to make sure we are on the same page." He watches her face get more and more drawn as he speaks, her mouth twitches and he knows she's chewing on her cheek again. 

"So do you not want something to happen then?" She asks in a hesitant voice, "is that why you stopped?" 

He shakes his head before she finishes speaking, laying a hand on her knee and squeezing.

"I want to do whatever you're comfortable with. I just need to know if this is one night for you, or if you want more, and if you do want more, how it's gonna work." She looks overwhelmed and he doesn’t blame her. This feels big, this feels monumental -- actually saying the words out loud. He much prefers kissing her, there is no fear when he's kissing her, just pure bliss. 

Mike squeezes her knee again, "Baker, I want this too," he waits until she looks at him to keep speaking, "trust me, wanting you is not the problem." 

Her jaw drops just a little bit, her eyebrows raising and she's looking at him like she can't quiet believe what he just said. 

He gives in, leans over and kisses her. Once, twice, and softly a final time before pulling back.

"Okay, now it's your turn," he says with a small smile. 

She opens and closes her mouth a few times. Mike lets her formulate her thoughts, not wanting to pressure her or force her to say something she isn't comfortable with. He knows how hard it was for him to get the words out, and like he said, he has significantly less to lose than she does.

They've both lost people, they both have strange relationships with their parents, or lack-there-of, that have scarred them into such similar yet different ways. He suddenly wishes they'd met after he retired, so there wasn't this dark cloud of uncertainty and convention hanging over them. All of this would have been so much easier. But that is not reality, and besides if they'd met after he'd retired he never would have gotten to be her catcher, and that is too ridiculous to even consider.

"I love you."

He thinks he should feel overwhelmed, and like maybe he got punched in the stomach or like he should want to shout it from rooftops that Ginny Baker loves him, but all he feels is calm. The calmest he's maybe ever felt. 

At peace, he feels at peace. 

"You do?" He says, hoping she might say it again. 

She nods her head a little frantically at him, eyes bright. 

"I do, I love you a lot, Mike. I think I have for a while," she looks relieved, like the words were begging to be said. 

It is such a perfect moment that Mike wants to pause time right here, right at this very second. He tries to catalogue everything, the feeling of the couch beneath him, the cold floor under his feet, the look on her face -- they way her dimples peek out like they are winking at him, the fullness of her lips, her eyelashes, the curly hair that frames her face so beautifully, her shining brown eyes. Everything, he needs to remember every single thing. 

He knows he is going to look back at this as the moment that changed his life for good. For one small second, he berates himself that he almost missed this, he almost let his insecurities rob him of this feeling. That feeling when you wake up cold at night so you pull the blanket around your body without thinking and instantly become warm. That feeling when your favourite song comes on the radio at the exact moment you need to hear it. That feeling of walking into your house after a trip and feeling at home for the first time in a long time.

"I love you, too."

"Yeah?" She looks devastatingly happy. In his 36 years, he has never seen anything more beautiful.

He nods and she grins so wide he thinks his heart is going to burst with affection. How could he have doubted this? 

She leans over and kisses him so passionately he forgets where he is, the only points of contact are his hands on her body and his lips on hers, everything else disappears. The details he was so adamant on cataloging drift away as she climbs into his lap. He wants to talk more, he wants to know specifics: How long has she known? What or whom made her realize her feelings? Was she planning on ever telling him before tonight?

He wants to tell her what his favourite things about her are: that she can't stand cilantro, that she hums ridiculous music when she stretches, that she takes no shit from anyone, that she snores on the team bus sometimes, her screwball, her eyes, her hands, her ass, her everything. God, he loves everything about her. 

He even loves that she interrupts him constantly, that she rants like nobody's business, that's she takes herself too seriously for her own good. Mike wants to tell Ginny all of that but he's also decided that his new purpose in life is to kiss her often and well, because she deserves it and he thinks maybe he does too. 

He can smell her shampoo, and taste her, and feel her bones and muscles move and shift under his hands, he can hear her pants and small moans and if he opened his eyes his whole world would be her face. He's surrounded, he's smothered, he's drowning, he is completely at peace and never wants to move. He lives here now; his new home is the feeling of being between her thighs.

Ginny stops kissing him, pulls back and levels him with a look that could move mountains; pure love and desire cover her face. Rather than lean in and kiss him again, she puts her arms around his shoulders and hugs him, fiercely and tight, burying her face into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. It feels like she's breathing him in, taking stalk of what's happened and just letting herself feel him. He wraps his arms around her tighter, hugs her back just as hard, like he's trying to pull her into his body and she's doing the same. 

They sit like that for a few minutes, lost in each other and the gravity of what they've said, the truths that have finally been given a voice. She lifts her head from his shoulder and his hands come up to brush her hair away from her face and cup her cheeks softly. He lets his thumbs brush and rest over her dimples; she bites her lip shyly and he's going to need to come to terms with the fact that she's only going to become more and more beautiful to him. 

"I didn't actually answer your question, huh?" She whispers, like it's a secret, like she doesn't want to break whatever spell they've cast. 

He's completely lost, he can barely remember he has a voice let alone how to form words. Mike must look as confused as he feels because she keeps talking, leaning back a few more inches from his face. His hands migrate, one dropping to her shoulder, then her arm and finally to hold her hand, the other rubs circles on her lower back. 

"You asked what this was, I never really answered," she's still whispering and he's slowly catching up, his brain clearing from the fog she'd created with her lips and her hands and her body, all of which are still distracting to a certain degree.

He nods, still not trusting his voice.

"I want to be with you, and for the first time in my life I don't care about the consequences. Whatever consequences there are won't compare to how you make me feel," she smiles, "besides I think I've earned something that's just mine."

Mike doesn't know if she realized she just called him hers, but it's the second-best thing she's said all day. 

He finally locates his vocal chords, "I think you're right," he doesn't recognize his voice. It's softer than he's ever heard himself speak. 

She leans back into his space, her face only inches from his.

"So, you're mine?" 

His hands tighten where he's holding her. So, she did realize.

"I'm yours."

Truer words were never spoken, they barley pass his lips when she connects their mouths, pouring everything she has into the kiss and he's right there to meet her, desperate and loving. 

Her hands make their way back to his shirt buttons, intent on ridding him of the garment, as she attempted before. She leans back so she can undo the rest and smirks at him.

"Anything else you want to talk about or can I take your shirt off now?" She looks far too proud of herself.

Rather than respond he bats her hands away, finishing off the buttons quickly and efficiently. Before his rookie can get her hands on his bare chest, his hands find her waist again and slip under the fabric of her top, lifting slowly, feeling her warm skin. 

She gets the hint and grabs her shirt, shucking it off quickly, tossing it somewhere behind her. He almost goes cross eyed and she's not even naked yet. Ginny laughs at what he's sure is the dumbfounded and awed look on his face. Mike is about to lean back in, desperate for another taste when she puts her hand over his mouth to stop him. His brow furrows and he levels her with what he hopes is a disgruntled look.

"You don't happen to have a bed in this fish bowl, do you?" 

He nods behind her fingers, she climbs off him far too gracefully and sticks out her hand, waiting for him. This is the best day of his life: topless Ginny Baker wants to go to his bedroom with him. This should be a national holiday. He's going to mark it on the calendar. He quickly remembers its already historically important because she also pitched her no-hitter. What a day. 

Mike takes her hand and they walk up to his room. He wraps his arms around her, leading her from behind. His hands graze and fondle all the newly exposed skin, he nuzzles her neck and plants small kisses on her shoulders. 

When they reach his room, he is very happy to see he did in fact clean up after himself, even made the bed. 

They stand next to the bed and kiss for a while, enjoying each other. Ginny grins into his mouth when he slides both his hands down to her ass and squeeze appreciatively. He keeps his hands there and she starts giggling into their kisses. He huffs out a laugh when she swoops down and laughs harder into his neck, her shoulders shaking.

"What's funny, Baker? You're gonna give a guy a complex," the smile is clear in his voice.

"I knew you loved my ass," she's still giggling a little and he squeezes again just to make her giggle more; it's such a sweet sound. 

"I do believe I called it perfect and pear-shaped the first time we met, I never tried to hide it," he's so happy in this exact moment it nearly takes his breath away. Not only have they admitted to loving each other, they are making each other laugh in the middle of fooling around. What a beautiful thing. He feels lucky and astounded and grateful and so many things he can't even put a name to, but if he did it they would all find their etymology from the woman in his arms. 

Mike shoves her onto the bed, she bounces and laughs more, bright and enchanting. Why doesn't he have a camera? He needs to immortalize this. He falls next to her and they laugh their way back to each other. He wants her to lose the bra and judging from how her hands are tugging at his jeans she wants his pants off. 

They divest themselves of the rest of their clothing with relative ease, Ginny’s leggings get stuck around one of her ankles and she nearly kicks him in the shin, which causes them both to start laughing again. He's probably just high off of her but he thinks maybe his hands were meant to touch her skin. 

He stops and looks at her, drinking her in and trying to memorize every tiny detail -- the fact that he knows this will happen again should be a comfort but he's still desperate to make sure he remembers everything. She's looking at him in quiet reverence, her hands running up and down his arms and across his thighs, tracing over his ass and up his back, mapping all of him; he does the same. They explore and appreciate, kissing lazily. Mike keeps pulling back to watch the expressions on her face, wanting to watch her be loved by him.

It feels selfish and selfless all at once.

One of his hands drifts between her legs, he touches her gently at first then more firmly as she settles into his palm. Her fingernails are gripping his shoulders, her strong pitcher’s hands digging into his skin and making him want to please her more and more and more.

She shudders and comes against his hand, her hips rocking and head thrown back: it's glorious and beautiful, it's the best thing he's ever seen and he wants to do it again immediately. 

So, he does. 

What he really wants is to have her sit on his face and ride him until she can't feel her legs anymore but he thinks he'll save that for another day. Instead, he shimmies down her body, stopping for minutes at a time when he finds a new favourite spot to appreciate: her clavicle that he sucks a mark into, both her nipples, the soft underside of her right breast. He spends some extra time at her belly button because she can't stop laughing every time his beard brushes it and she's too delightful to watch cackle in his bed not to. 

She's starts pleading for him to do something while he’s sucking another mark into her hip, he wants to explore her legs, he really wants to kiss the backs of her knees because he thinks it will make her laugh. But when her hands grab his head and guide him between her legs he's unable to resist. 

Just like when he was touching her with his hand, he starts slow and easy, kissing and licking softly, letting her warm up to the feeling. She's so wet and so wonderful, sensitive and delicious, he can feel her thighs vibrating from where he's gripping them; the corded muscle firm and luscious under his palms. He moves one hand to put pressure on her pelvis and keep her still. Ginny moans lowly into the pressure and pushes against his face and hand as much as she can.

He rubs his chin against her and one of her hands leaves his hair to grab the pillow above her head, she pulls it over her face and moans the loudest he's heard so far. It would be louder but it's somewhat muffled behind the pillow. That just won't do.

He bites lightly on the inside of her thigh and he hears a dull gasp escape her. He crawls up just far enough so he can grab the pillow and throw it off the bed. Her hair is everywhere and she looks dazed and lustful.

"I wanna hear you, rookie," he immediately dives back between her legs like he's hoping to find the secret to happiness. He thinks he has.

She falls apart moments later, a hoarse moan leaving her mouth, her back arches in a delicious fashion and he's pretty sure she pulled out a few clumps of his hair, but he's not complaining. 

He shuffles up the bed and lays down beside her, petting her side softly and letting her find herself again. She's trembling like a leaf in his arms and she curls towards him, her hands on his chest and her breath still laboured. He laughs when the first words out of her mouth are, “do you have a condom?” Mike rolls over and pulls one out from his bedside table, she snatches it from him and his stomach tightens in anticipation. 

He'd seen her gaze appreciatively at him while they were exploring each other and she had rocked her hips into him so desperately while they were kissing but, the feeling of her hand wrapped around him is something else entirely. His eyes roll back into his head and he's already so keyed up and so turned on, has been since he lifted her onto the kitchen counter, that he just wants to be inside her. He says as much and she quickly tears the wrapper with her teeth and rolls on the condom, making him gasp and his hips twitch. 

He wants to pound her into the mattress; he wants to hold her close and rock into her softly; he wants to see her on top of him, head thrown back in ecstasy. He wants it all at once and for a few seconds he's frozen trying to figure out how to proceed.

He's not sure if she senses his distress or just gets impatient but he finds himself on top of Ginny and he can feel every gorgeous part of her. Mike slides between her thighs and finds God. She feels so perfect, she gasps as his not unimpressive length slowly slides inside of her. He holds himself there, watching the play of emotions cross her face. They stare at each other, breathing each other in and settling into the moment. His hips jolt and her eyes close, a small moan escaping from between her lips.

He lays his foreheads against hers and brings a hand up to cup her cheek. He wants her eyes again.

"Ginny..." he whispers, his voice almost cracking. He feels weak and also like he could move a mountain with his bare hands.

When her hips start to rock, he begins to move slowly over her, the drag is glorious and he can feel himself getting lost in her. She's grabs his gluteal muscles in a tight grip and tries to get him to move faster, she's keening low in her throat and kissing him sloppily and he's just trying to keep up. 

He's a tiny bit ashamed to say he can feel his knees and back more than he wishes. He decides to fulfill one of his fantasies and rolls them over while keeping them connected, making her pant. She can take him deeper like this and her face is open and blissful as she begins to move. His jaw drops at the sight above him, he sees the muscles in her stomach contracting and her breasts are swaying temptingly; her eyes are closed and she has a dreamy smile on her face.

They finally fall apart in each other arms some time later, Mike giving Ginny his knuckles for her to grind against and him following moments after her, the contractions he can feel all around him making the world go dark for a few seconds.

He comes back to himself with her beside him, her body twitching and shining. He can't feel his legs and the top of his back is stinging a little bit, his beard feels tacky from her essence and there is a delicious tingling sensation all along his extremities. 

He wants to run to the bathroom for a cloth to clean them up with, he's a gentleman after all, but he also never wants to move again. He kisses Ginny quickly, because he can, and forces himself out of the bed. 

He gets rid of the condom, cleans himself as quickly as he can and runs a cloth under some warm water before heading back into the bedroom. Rather than open her eyes, Ginny just lets him move her this way and that as he makes her more comfortable, he presses a few kisses into her body along the way making her smile and pet his hair lovingly. He leans into her like an affectionate house cat without shame. 

He tosses the cloth somewhere, retrieves the pillow he threw to the ground and shuffles them under the blanket together. They wrap themselves around each other, breathing quietly, not speaking. 

He likes that she can't stop touching him, her hands run a path up his arms and down his chest and back again, his do the same; they fall asleep like that. He wakes up at one point in the middle of the night to use the bathroom but rather than fall immediately back asleep he takes a few minutes to look at her. Earlier that day he had said he wanted to know the exact expression on her face when she was dead to the world asleep in his bed and it came true. She's more beautiful than he could have ever imagined and he smiles thinking about the gigantic breakfast he's going to cook her when the sun comes up. 

Mike feels greedy, already wondering how he can ensure she wears one of his shirts in the morning. She ends up waking him up, already wearing one of his shirts saying her stomach growling woke her up and that she wants food. 

It's the first time he's woken up with a smile on his face in a long time and the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a grinning, half-naked Ginny. She kisses him and tells him to hurry and meet her downstairs otherwise she will start cooking and apparently, that is something he definitely does not want that to have happen. 

She climbs off him and makes her way to the door, throwing a look over her shoulder that has him chasing after her.

He thinks it's going to be a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Comment if you'd like, its always appreciated! <3


End file.
